


Close Encounters

by MadManta



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Canon Typical Violence, Christmas Party, Drinking, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:29:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28162449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadManta/pseuds/MadManta
Summary: Five times they almost kissed, and one time they did. With a Christmasy twist.Prompt: Friday, Office Holiday Party.
Relationships: Reno/Rude (Compilation of FFVII)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 53
Collections: Shinra Holiday 2020





	Close Encounters

_One_.

Reno had Rude’s tie around his forehead and was swinging his sixth? Seventh? Beer in his non-dominant hand. He had his other arm tight around Ruluf’s wiry shoulders. Neither of them were even remotely sober, and they were belting out the words to the song booming over the bar’s speakers. The night crowd was rowdy and eager for entertainment, clapping and hollering for the two sloppy young agents who’d pulled themselves up onto the table.

Rude pretended to be above it all, enjoying his much more reasonable _fifth_ beer in a tucked away corner booth. He’d at least gotten his jacket off, crammed his tie into his suit jacket, and finally rolled his sleeves up. He kept his gloves on, which his companion ribbed him about endlessly.

“What’re you got under there?” Ledge asked, elbowing him. “Are all your fingers fucked up from punching so hard? No, wait. An infection? All your nails black and blue? No.” Ledge intimated a gasp so over the top that Rude grimaced. “Sparkly purple nail polish?”

Rude tipped the neck of the beer in Ledge’s direction. “You caught me,” he said, and then took a long, hard drink.

“No foolin’?” Ledge asked, and Rude nearly choked on his drink. Ledge waved a hand dismissively. “Ahhh feh. I might have wanted to see a guy like you with that.”

Rude rolled his eyes. “A guy like me?”

Ledge huffed. “I just wouldn’t be surprised to see your partner with nail polish on.”

Rude snorted in disbelief. “He wouldn’t be able to sit down and let someone do it, and he doesn’t have the time to do it himself.” Rude was rambling, a little, but he was more drunk than he let on; and really, it was _Ledge’s_ fault for bringing up Rude’s favorite subject. His partner. “Or are you tryin’ to tell me that because you and I are from Junon, and he’s from Midgar—”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Ledge said.

“If you have a problem with _people from Midgar_ ,” Rude said, air quoting, and Ledge just held up his hands.

“Nah, nah! I was just sayin’, is all.”

The discordant notes of Reno and Ruluf’s song ended to uproarious applause, and Reno swung himself around the table until he could spy Rude, exactly where he’d left him. Reno’s face broke out into a grin, and if by sheer force of attraction, Rude turned his head in his direction.

The connection was immediate, and Reno brought up his hand to blow a sloppy kiss in Rude’s direction. Rude just raised a gloved hand, waited a few seconds for it to travel through Reno’s imagination, and closed his fist around it. Reno’s face exploded into laughter, and he pulled Ruluf down off the table with him.

“Sorry, Ledge,” Rude said, sliding out of the booth. “That’s the signal. First we gotta sing, then we’re gonna go get our nails done.”

Ledge watched Rude stalk over to the other two Turks with relaxed ease, throwing his arms around the both of them, and wondered how long it would take him to get his foot out of his mouth after this one.

* * *

 _Two_.

The whole office felt exhausted. Emma and Freya had fallen asleep back to back, each with a binder over their laps. Half of the others were trying desperately to stay awake, hunched over their desks. Reno was supposed to be keeping the energy up. It was two in the morning, and everyone had been fading fast. Veld had expected answers, and so Tseng and Reno rallied the troops to pull out all the stops to find where their target could have been hiding.

It was slow going, to put it politely, and Reno just wanted to send everyone home, but with Tseng there, it wasn’t gonna happen.

There was a loud thunk, like someone falling against the door, and then it creaked open. Rude stood there, arms loaded with bags of steaming takeout, and pushed it open further so that Cissnei could slide past, equally loaded down with golden fried food, grilled meat, and sweet and sour sides. “Somebody gonna help us with this, or what?”

Reno shot to his feet, nearly tripping over himself and his own wastebasket to get there, taking bags from Cissnei as Rude made his way to a table. It was covered in paperwork and binders, and next to it was Tseng, who probably looked barely a third as tired as he actually was. Tseng was the one to lean over and slide all of the papers off the table in one swift movement, the office going silent as the binders and papers fell to the floor.

It was quiet for a short moment until three particularly hungry Turks whooped, and rushed to help Rude unpack the food. Rude just stepped away as the others dove on the food, his lips turning up into a slight grin as he turned around.

Reno — who had already passed the food on to Maur — was in front of him, and literally leapt into his arms, forcing Rude to catch him lest they go careening into the floor. “ _Rude!_ ” Reno exclaimed. “I could _kiss_ you! We were _dyin_ ’!”

“Why don’t you?” Rude said quietly, and no one seemed to notice as they were all popping open containers of fried rice and double-battered chocobo.

Reno felt his breath catch in his throat. Maybe it was because it was the middle of the night and he was hearing things, but he struggled to believe what Rude had murmured. “Really?” he asked, voice caught in his throat.

Rude tilted his head at him, and Reno felt his face slowly moving forward, that connection they had pulling him as if he were on a string, his lips almost at Rude’s chin—

When Emma sleepily bumped into Rude from behind, causing Rude to lose balance and make the choice to throw Reno out of his arms so he could stay upright. Reno landed with a loud thunk on his ass, looking more shocked than he was annoyed, and Rude’s cheeks lit up pink.

“Oh! Shit! Sorry Rude!” Emma said, and then peered around him. “Did I push you hard enough to knock him down too? Jeez. Hungrier than I thought.”

Rude mouthed, ‘Sorry,’ at Reno, and went to feed himself.

Reno tried not to stare at him and think of those whispered words. _Why don’t you?_

* * *

_Three._

They’re not necessarily undercover. A Shinra soiree like this was sure to have its fair share of secret police, bodyguards, mysterious Turks. But Reno and Rude were hiding in plain sight, even though it was torture for the both of them. They were dressed in the stuffy dark green uniforms of the military elite, shoulder boards with epaulets, service caps, crests and all.

Reno was deeply uncomfortable in something so stiff and close-cut. Their uniforms had been properly tailored so as to keep Heidegger happy — god forbid anyone look sloppy in _his_ uniforms — and the collar and tie were tight around Reno’s neck.

Rude was deeply uncomfortable because of how damn hot Reno looked, all buttoned up and looking sleek and intimidating.

“I’d kill a guy for a damn drink,” Reno whispered, the two of them shoulder to shoulder (or close to it) up against the wall. There was a speech happening, and they had to be alert, ready to dive to protect anyone speaking. But Reno was bouncing on his heels to the point of distraction.

Rude reached for his hand, and then gave it a tiny slap with a few of his fingers, clad in the unfamiliar white gloves of the dress uniform. “Stop it.”

“I’m dyin’,” Reno whined, and Rude withdrew his hand with an amused huff.

When the speech came to a close, Reno was rearing to go. The crowd of clapping socialites bled into the floor as a waltz swelled in the background, and Reno went looking for the first person he saw carrying a tray of champagne.

He was just lucky it was Emma. “Can I get two of those?” he asked, grabbing them without receiving an answer. “One’s for—”

“Damn, is that Rude?” Emma whistled, looking past Reno’s shoulder as Rude much more leisurely made his way down the stairs to the main floor. “He looks _good_.”

“He always looks good,” Reno snapped. Emma looked taken aback, and Reno laughed nervously to cover up the surge of jealousy that had found its way out. “I’m not gonna hang out with some slob like Alvin.”

Emma stared at him the way that only she could, and she read his pages, front to back. “I see.”

“Evening, madame,” Rude said as he slid up next to Reno, attempting to remain incognito until he saw the two’s awkward expressions. “What did he do now?”

Reno looked abashed. “Nothing! I got you a drink! Let’s get out of here before she decides to read your mind too.”

“Sounds fun,” Rude started, until Reno shoved a flute of champagne in his hand and stomped off.

“You should fuck with him,” Emma said before Rude walked off, and he barely kept his composure.

“Excuse me?”

“You know. Mess around with him. He’s all uptight. Loosen him up with a prank. If he drinks too much like this—”

“He’ll get belligerent. Believe me, I know,” Rude said, and then gave her a little nod. “I’ll keep an eye on him.” He walked away quickly enough that she couldn’t get in another word, because Reno wasn’t wrong. Emma was very good at inferring too much and getting it right eighty percent of the time.

He found Reno splayed out in a dining chair, legs spread in a wide vee as he leisurely slurped the bubbly drink. “We’re off duty, ain’t we?”

Rude glanced up at the balcony, where Tseng and Veld were ever present. No sign of the president or young VP. He shrugged. “Looks like it,” he said, and threw back his glass much quicker than Reno had.

Reno’s eyes lit up. “You wanna stick around and drink free top-shelf booze until they kick us out?”

Rude shook his head, and instead held out his hand. “I think we should get out of here _before_ you get us kicked out.”

Reno pouted up at him, lazily throwing his hand into Rude’s. What he didn’t expect was for Rude to bend down and kiss Reno’s knuckles, Reno’s eyes zeroing in on the touch on the kidskin leather of his gloves.

“After one dance,” Rude said, and pulled Reno to his feet.

“R-Rude,” Reno said, and then forced himself to laugh so that the stutter sounded like his own withheld chuckles. “This ain’t a club, I can’t fuckin’ do the waltz or whatever.”

“C’mon,” Rude needled. “It’ll be fun. For me.”

Reno stared at him, the cogs turning in his brain. “What do I get out of it?”

“We’ll get out of here and go get so drunk we kicked out of somewhere _else_. Just not the Shinra Ballroom.”

“Can we at least change first?” Reno whined, even as he was led out onto the dance floor.

“After the dance,” Rude promised, and then he was pulling Reno close, one hand on his hip, the other holding up his arm. “Besides,” Rude murmured, “this will give you something to lord over Emma.”

Reno tried very hard to not step on Rude’s feet, though the admission made him both laugh and feel a distinct twinge of something else. “Aw,” Reno chided. “You mean you didn’t just wanna waltz with your partner?”

“If I did, and admitted that,” Rude said as he led them on a slow circuit with the other smiling, tipsy guests, “my partner would lord that over _me_.”

That twinge of pain bloomed into something much more warm and Reno had to avert his eyes. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” he whispered, and let himself waltz around the room with Rude. He’d tell everyone how uncomfortable it was in the stupid dress uniform, how sweaty they were, how he could feel Veld and Tseng’s gaze on them. He’d never tell them his hand still burned from the kiss, and that his heart was going to beat itself out of his chest.

* * *

_Four._

He knew the mission was going to end badly before they arrived at the rendezvous point. Reno was wound up out of his mind, over-eager and angry at how mishandled it had all gone down, and then, it literally blew up in their faces.

Reno didn’t even remember the aftermath of the blown up building, the singed tails of his coat, the ringing in his ears.

When he thought back on it, all that stood out was the feeling of Rude’s arms around him as they waited for backup. Rude holding him, like he was afraid Reno might fall apart like rag doll with loose stitches. Rude’s face close to his, or maybe even buried in Reno’s damaged hair. Rude’s lips pressed close to Reno’s skin as he murmured words of comfort about the inevitable arrival of a helicopter.

At the hospital, later, Rude was far away again, but pleased that Reno was recovering, burnt hairs and all. Reno missed the feeling of Rude’s protection. Of his lips.

He blamed it on the morphine.

* * *

_Five._

“Look at it all!” Reno huffed, his bare arms flashing in the afternoon sun. His t-shirt with a bubbly, post-ironic Shinra logo on it was an unusual deviation from their usual clothes, but their latest mission — successful though it was! — involved a lot of malfunctioning drones. “I look like a drug addict!”

The muscular forearms were littered with bruises, scratches and mild burns. Normally drones were easy as pie for Reno to cut down, with his proficiency for lightning. Unfortunately these had chained together and surrounded him, putting the electric output back into Reno. His hair had stood out in a way that had been completely unnatural and unfairly hilarious, but he looked like a cartoon character that had been fried by a massive thundaga blast. At headquarters, the science level’s interns had cleaned the soot and electrical discharge off of Reno with grimaces, and the high level cures had dealt with any potential scarring. But Reno’s shirt and jacket had disintegrated.

And thus, Rude found himself shelling out 500 Gil in the Shinra gift shop before he offered to take Reno out to drown out the rest of his aches and pains in top shelf booze.

“It’s not that bad,” Rude lied, pushing his shades further up his nose. “You announcing it doesn’t help.”

“Announcing that I am _not a drug addict_ ,” Reno clarified with a finger wag. Rude sighed.

“Your hair’s sticking up,” Rude said, and turned into the first bar of the night. Reno stared after him, then squinted at himself in the windows — his hair had been tamed back at HQ and was _fine_ , thank you.

Reno slid up behind Rude at the bar, giving him a hard slap at the center of his back. “Just for that slight to my ego, you’re buyin’ my drink,” Reno said, and the bartender just rolled his eyes as he went to pour a second glass.

Two beers on and they had relocated to a softer booth. Reno had his arms thrown out over the table, complaining again. “How did they leave so much damn bruising? I won’t even be able to sleep. Every time I move my damn shoulder I’ll feel it down to my fingertips.”

“Reno, just shut up about your arms. You’re fine,” Rude said, his eyebrows moving up in a way that heavily implied he was rolling his eyes.

“Hey!” Reno snapped, belly warm from the beer. “You look me in the eyes and say that!”

Rude pulled the sunglasses off his face and tucked them into his suit jacket’s pocket. “You’re _fine_ ,” he said, warm amber eyes leveled on Reno’s.

Reno’s mouth went dry. “I’m totally not.”

Rude just rolled his eyes visibly at him this time and put his beer down. He reached out with gloved hands, snatching Reno’s wiry wrist, and pulled it to his mouth. Rude placed one chaste kiss on a particularly nasty bruise half way up his forearm, and then let go of it. “There. Feel better, you big baby?”

Reno was still half bent over the table after having been pulled over it. He was staring, silently, feeling that warm feeling in his belly bloom downwards. “Uhhh…”

“That’s right. Now quit complaining. I’ll get us shots.” Rude shouldered out of his jacket, leaving it in the booth as he returned to the bar.

Reno stared after him and didn’t think about the bruising for the rest of the evening.

* * *

 _And one more_.

The Solstice holiday made it easy to loosen anyone up. A warm, sweet beverage that was thick with booze in one hand, and a fat buttery cookie in the other, made for rosy cheeks and easy grins. Shinra parties were usually quite stodgy until the directors left to more exclusive affairs, and then it became a mad house of mugs dunked in mulled wine or egg nog, noisy Solstice classics on a tinny boombox, and boisterous circles of colleagues laughing and shouting.

Rude was even dressed up, his usual subdued classiness traded out for holiday cheer. His tie was bright red with little embroidered lights waving over the edges, and his suit vest — which he wore in place of his suit jacket — still black but covered in snowflake designs. He was only one mug of mulled wine deep, as it was best for the Turks to stay alert while the rest of the corporatists partied hard.

Rude loved the season, but the parties were a little too raucus for his tastes. He stood to the side in the converted cafeteria that had been decorated festively, sipping slowly at the spicy wine in the ‘Jingle Hell’ mug Reno had pressed into his hands earlier that afternoon. He could see his partner across the way, telling a loud story to Emma and some woman he vaguely recognized as from InfoSec. He was glad Reno had stories that entertained all walks of life, but he was also glad it took the pressure off of _him_ to socialize.

At least until Veld settled into place next to him, his own cup full of rum-heavy eggnog. “You ever get tired of him?”

The corner of Rude’s lip turned up. “All the time.”

“You handle it gracefully,” Veld said with a commending nod.

“It’s nice,” Rude said. “To have someone who forces you into situations you don’t want to do.” He sipped his drink again. “It’s the only way Reno would have gotten his retirement account set up if I hadn’t been hovering over his shoulder. And afterward he made me drink two Blowjob Shots in front of the whole bar.”

Veld’s eyebrow rose. “The kind you have to drink without using your hands?”

Sluurp. “Yup.”

Veld held up his glass to him. “Cheers to that.”

“Cheers to Reno,” Rude said, his grin growing a bit more sentimental and less wry. Veld pretended not to notice.

The evening passed slowly, with more and more of the regular desk jockeys heading home after an hour or two. That was finally when Rude let himself drink a little more as well. Veld had taken off, leaving Tseng — who had a particularly charming red flush to his face — ‘in charge’. The other Turks still lingered, loud and brash, but Rude had found his way to an unoccupied couch, one foot kicked up.

Reno found his way over to him, tossing himself onto the couch. He didn’t have a drink in his hand, so nothing sloshed. “Partner, you’ve been so quiet out here,” he said, his smile a little sloppy. “Why don’t you come hang out with us?”

“Oh, you know me,” Rude teased. “If I’m not getting all the attention, I wither away and die, so. I figured I’d relax over here.”

Reno leaned on him, one hand splayed out on Rude’s knee. “I’ll give you my undivided attention. C’mon. You tell the best stories. Just like how you roll the best joints.”

Rude looked at him over his sunglasses. “We’re not smoking Solstice dope, Reno.”

Reno pulled himself off the couch and held out a hand. “No, but you can come with me to get a fresh drink and then entertain me for a while.”

Rolling his eyes, Rude reached for the hand and was pulled gracefully up. He followed Reno’s sauntering figure, still holding onto his now empty mug, over to the table with the rapidly shrinking pots of warm drink. Reno filled a cup for himself, and then did the same for Rude. “Wanna take a break outside?” Reno asked, head jerking in the direction of one of the observation balconies.

“Sure.”

It was cold out there, but their cheeks and bellies were warm from the festivities. No one else was outside, and Rude was able to place his drink on the fat lip of the balcony. He lifted a little cigarette case, raising a brow at Reno, who just nodded. Rude put two cigarettes into his lips, lit them both, and then handed one to Reno.

Reno took it with an appreciative sigh. “Wish we got more snow out here.”

Rude blew out smoke with a barely concealed laugh. “For real?” he asked. “You hate the stuff.”

“Nah,” Reno said, glancing at him with a mischievous grin. “I just do that to make you feel better about how miserable the cold makes you.”

Rude chuckled. “That’s it, is it?”

“I know how embarrassed you get when you realize you’re just complaining. You don’t go over the top so it’s a lot more annoying. You can only listen to ‘Fuck it’s cold’ so many times in a ten minute span before you start needing a change of pace.”

Rude rolled his eyes. “So you go over the top so I don’t embarrass myself with subtle complaints, huh?” He glanced at him with a smirk. “You’re a real saint, partner.”

“I gotta get you a nice parka. Then we can really enjoy the cold. Snow men, snow castles, snow ball fights. The works.” Reno was looking out over the city, his hair ruffling in the breeze. “I bet I could change your mind.”

“Doubt it,” Rude said. “But I appreciate the thought.”

“We could rent a cabin. Real cozy one. Warmed floors,” Reno began, finally turning to look at him. “Big fire place. Pine trees!”

“How romantic,” Rude teased. Reno deflated a little, and made an awkward laugh to cover up the change in expression.

“Yeah, I guess I’m starved for any kind of vacation,” Reno said, and flicked the rest of his cigarette off the edge of the building. “Anything starts to sound good.”

Rude watched him carefully, forgetting to smoke his own cigarette as the wind slowly smoked it for him. They were alone, they were drunk, they were on topic. Rude’s inner voice was screaming at him to say something, do something, but his mouth was struggling to catch up. That happened even without several hours of alcohol consumption, but now?

“Well,” Reno said, pushing away from the railing. “Guess we’d better head back in.”

Rude felt his adrenaline spike as he dropped his cigarette and reached for Reno’s wrist, pulling him back. “Reno,” he said, his gloves sliding up over the bare skin under Reno’s shirt cuff. Reno looked up at him in mild confusion, and then Rude seemed to be moving of his own accord as he stepped close. “I’d stay in a romantic cabin with you,” he said. Reno’s eyes crinkled as though he were about to laugh, but Rude kept going on. “I’d stay in a shitty motel with questionable stains and a noisy radiator. I’d _prefer_ to stay in a nice inn in Costa. But I’d take a tent at Corel, as long as you were with me.”

Reno’s eyes widened until one blink was owlish. “I don’t get it,” Reno said softly, as though the point of Rude’s words didn’t really make sense.

It was a bad idea, but Rude was already neck deep in this. How bad could it be to dip his head in, too?

His other hand came up to caress the back of Reno’s neck, and his partner seemed to swoon into his body. They both knew what that kind of movement meant, and Reno had leaned into it, bolstering Rude’s confidence. Their bodies grew close, touching from chest to thigh, and suddenly Rude’s pulse was in his throat. Reno was there, under his hands and so warm to the touch. Rude watched Reno’s eyes flicker, and he leaned in.

“Hey!” Ledge blurted from the doors, causing Rude to jerk backwards. “Come back in, they’re doin’ the prize drawing for the bigass knife and the game console!”

Rude felt shaken, pulled out of whatever fog had taken over him, but suddenly he felt Reno’s hand on _his_ neck. “Fuck this,” Reno said, and yanked his head down to kiss him.

Rude gasped into the kiss, his hand dropping from Reno’s head but slowly moving to wrap around his waist. It was slow, just the pressing of lips, until Reno seemed satisfied that he could lean back without Rude rushing away. This time Rude followed after him, chasing for more kisses that grew deeper with soft licks and nips. A quiet laugh rumbled out of Rude’s chest, and Reno finally pulled all the way back.

“You’re _sappy_ ,” Reno accused, his eyes narrowing playfully. Rude’s ears were already red from the cold, otherwise they would have gone red in embarrassment.

“I thought it was effective,” Rude said in his defense, and Reno laughed, reaching out to slap him on the back. Unfortunately, his hand made an enormous arc, catching Rude’s drink on the railing and sent it flying towards the two of them, soaking them in sugary warm wine. The novelty mug cracked on the metal floor, and it almost looked like the familiar scene of them splattered in blood.

“Oh, fuck!” Reno hissed. “Man! Why didn’t you drink faster?”

“Reno,” Rude said, reaching for his hand. “Do you care about the prize drawings?”

“As if I don’t have enough knives,” Reno scoffed.

“Come home with me. I’ll wash your pants. You can turn on one of those ten hour fireplace videos. And, I’ll roll you a Solstice joint.”

Reno gazed at him with the very obvious intention to scream ‘yes’ at the top of his lungs, but attempted to play it cool. “Is that all?”

“If you need it,” Rude whispered, “I’m sure we could steal some mistletoe before we went home. Anywhere you put it…” His lips grazed Reno’s. “I’ll kiss.”

Reno kissed him again, closing that distance easily, before sliding back down to his heels. “Should we tell the others we’re going?”

“Absolutely not,” Rude said, and Reno was inclined to agree.

No one even noticed the sprig of mistletoe missing from the archway.


End file.
